Pepperoni Pizza Can Be Murder (9 page)

“What are you doing?” he asked me. Apparently I wasn’t as stealthy as I’d hoped.

I had two choices. I could lie, or I could tell the truth.

I decided to lie. “It looks like somebody got into my cookie jar,” I said.

“Don’t touch that,” he said as I picked up the lid against his orders. “Nice job, Eleanor. You probably just ruined the finger-prints on it.”

That had been my intention all along. “Sorry. It’s just a habit of mine to straighten things up.”

“What’s in there?” he asked as he looked at the jar.

I lifted the lid and looked inside. It was nice to be able to tell the truth at least once during our conversation. “Nothing but dust,” I said.

He shook his head, and then turned to the window and looked out. “There are footprints in your flower bed,” he said. I watched him scan the yard, and then he added, “Whoever was here is long gone.”

“I can’t believe someone broke into my home,” I said, trying not to ham it up too much. “So much for our Neighborhood Watch. Where’s Mr. Harpold when I need him?”

“Watching us out front, probably. This didn’t happen too long ago.” He studied the window, and then said, “This wasn’t even locked. There’s no sign of forced entry.”

“I felt like a morning breeze,” I lied. “I was just finishing my coffee when I had to answer the doorbell. Someone must have taken my absence as an open invitation.”

“It was Greg, wasn’t it?” Kevin asked, staring hard at me. “He was here.”

“How should I know? I was out front talking to you, remember?”

“Eleanor, you’re not helping the kid by keeping him from me, you know that, don’t you?”

I worked up a little insincere indignation. “Search my house if you don’t believe me. Greg’s not here.”

“Probably not now, but he was. Go ahead, deny it.”

“I’m not going to stand here in my own kitchen and listen to you accuse me of things you have absolutely no proof of. You need to leave.”

He didn’t even look surprised by my outburst. “What happened to my coffee?”

“I hear they have a mean brew down at Emily’s Coffee Shop,” I said.

“Be careful, Eleanor. This isn’t a game, and the quicker you learn that, the better off you’ll be.”

“Have a nice day, Chief,” I said.

He finally took the hint, then tarried at the door. “You want to file a police report on your break-in?”

“I don’t see the need,” I said. “Nothing’s missing. I’ll be more careful about unlocked windows in the future.”

“You do that,” he said.

I watched him leave, and after I was sure he was gone, I called out, “Greg? Greg? Are you still here?”

Thankfully, there was no answer. I wiped off the windowsill, swept up the dirt on the floor, and rinsed the coffee mugs. In three minutes, it was impossible to tell that Greg had ever been there.

But Kevin knew.

And I didn’t even care.

It was clear our police chief was focusing his attention on my deliveryman, and if he was wasting his time doing that, he wasn’t out searching for the real killer.

That meant that Maddy and I were going to have to do it ourselves, or Greg wouldn’t stand a chance. He couldn’t stay underground long on the money he’d borrowed from me, and there weren’t that many places that he could hide in Timber Ridge.

“W
ake up,” I told Maddy when she finally answered her telephone. “We have things to do today.”

“Eleanor, why are you calling me on the phone? Aren’t you still here at the apartment?”

This wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped. “I’m standing in my kitchen. I came home to take a shower and change clothes. While I was here, you’ll never believe who popped in.”

“It’s not that tough to guess,” she said. “I’m willing to bet that our chief of police came calling on you.”

“He did, but that was later,” I said.

“Who came sooner, then?”

“Greg Hatcher,” I replied.

That got her attention. “Greg was there? What did he say? Did Kevin catch him with you? What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you,” I said, “as soon as I pick you up. Can you be ready and standing out in front of your place in ten minutes?”

“Come on, tell me now,” she said. “It’s not fair making me wait.”

“No, I know you. If I tell you everything that happened with Greg and Kevin, you’ll just crawl back into bed, and you can’t do that, not today.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Fine, go ahead,” I said. “I’ll just follow the leads Greg gave me about his brother’s murder by myself. Sorry I bothered you. I’ll give you a call tonight if I get the chance.”

I hesitated an instant, then hung up.

Three seconds later, Maddy called back. “Okay, that is not very nice—you know that, don’t you?”

“What can I say? I learned some of my best tricks from my little sister.”

“I resent that remark,” she said.

“I don’t blame you, I’d resent it, too. The question is, are you willing to deny it?”

“You win. I’ll be out front. Give me fifteen minutes, though.”

I looked at my watch. “Starting right now. The timer’s on.”

She hung up without even saying good-bye. It might have been cruel of me to hold back the information I’d just gotten from Greg, but it was the only way I could be sure that Maddy would join me in my investigation. And there was no way I was going to snoop around today by myself. A killer was out there somewhere in Timber Ridge, and I didn’t want to face whoever it was alone.

As good as her word, Maddy was out front when I got to her apartment complex. As she got into my car, she asked, “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting like three minutes.”

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” I said, though it was pretty clear to both of us that I wasn’t sorry at all. “I had to get gas before I picked you up.”

“It sounds like we’re going on a road trip,” she said. “Where did you have in mind? If you need suggestions, I’ve got a dozen good ideas.”

“We’re not out on a lark, remember?”

“Absolutely, but I wasn’t sure you did. What did Greg tell you?”

“For starters, he gave me a number of suspects he came up with overnight. At the top of his list is Wade’s girlfriend, Sandi Meadows. Evidently, she’s the jealous type, and she has a temper, too. Then there’s Katy Johnson.”

“Greg thinks his girlfriend might have killed his brother? That’s kind of Shakespearian, isn’t it?”

I shrugged. “He said Katy was capable of it, and I tend to believe him.”

“So far, we’ve got two women as our suspects. Were there any men who hated Wade enough to kill him?”

I started driving. “Greg said a man named Art Young could have done it. Wade owed him money.”

Maddy whistled. “You’re kidding me, right? Was Wade really that stupid?”

“So you’ve heard of him?”

Maddy nodded. “Bob told me about him a few months ago. He was going to represent the man in a civil suit, but the case was suddenly dropped at the last second, and Art tried to get out of paying him the full amount he owed. This from a guy with illegal loans out all over our part of North Carolina, and who knows what else he’s into. Bob said that Art has never been formally arrested, but he’s come awfully close a few times.”

“He sounds like a real prince,” I said. “I can’t wait to talk to him.”

“Hang on a second, Eleanor. Are you serious? We’re going to question him about Wade’s murder?”

I glanced at my sister. “We can’t really be that choosy about our suspects, can we?” I thought about it a second, then added, “Maybe we’ll see if Bob will tag along with us when we talk to him. Do you think he’d do it?”

“For me? I think so,” Maddy said. Bob had a never-ending crush on Maddy, and she wasn’t beyond taking advantage of it when it suited her.

She looked out the front windshield, and then she asked, “Hey, I don’t mean to be nosy, but where are we going?”

“I thought we might have a chat with Wade’s neighbors to see if they noticed anything odd over the last few nights.”

“He was killed at the Slice,” Maddy reminded me, as if I needed that particular fact refreshed in my mind.

“Trust me, I didn’t forget,” I said. “But if Wade’s neighbors are anything like mine, someone might have seen something.”

“What are we going to do, just start ringing doorbells?”

I grinned. “As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

We pulled up in front of Wade’s place, and I reached in back for something I’d brought from the house.

“A clipboard?” Maddy asked when she saw me bring it forward. “You’re kidding, right?”

“This is just to get a foot in the door,” I said.

“So, what are we doing, getting petitions to banish the letter
Q
from the English language, or are we trying to free Willy’s little brother?”

“Nothing as dramatic as that,” I said. “We’re going to circulate a petition to create a Neighborhood Watch group in the area. That should give us a perfect segue into asking about Wade, and talking about what might have led to his murder. Are you in?”

“Have I ever said no to you?” she asked.

“More times than I can count,” I said.

“Don’t be so nitpicky,” Maddy said. “It’s unbecoming.” We got out of the car when we neared his place, and as we started for Wade’s closest neighbor, my sister added, “Actually, this is pretty good. I’m impressed with your imagination, Eleanor.”

“I was trying to think about what might work to get us the answers we need, and I kept coming back to this.”

Before we could get to the first front door, Maddy said, “Let me see the clipboard before we ring the bell.”

I had a blank sheet of paper under the clip, and a pen hung down from a string attached to the back. Maddy scrawled a few things on the paper, and then handed it back to me. “There, that’s perfect.”

I saw that she’d headed the paper
Petition for Neighborhood Watch
and she’d even added a few signatures as well. Below hers, Maddy had scrawled three names: one looked like Abraham Lincoln, one appeared to be Jesse James, and the third could be interpreted as Kevin Hurley.

I started to scratch out the police chief’s name when Maddy asked, “What are you doing?”

“I doubt Kevin would appreciate us forging his signature.”

She studied it a second, and then with a few slashes from her pen, it was hard to see what name was written there. “I think it’s a mistake, but I’ve made it more unrecognizable now.”

“Thanks,” I said. My finger was poised over the doorbell when I asked, “Do you want to do the talking, or should I?”

“It’s your idea,” she said. “You should get the fun of executing it.”

“Okay, but feel free to step in anytime you’d like.”

“You can count on it.”

An older woman came to the door of the Cape Cod–style home, a pair of gardening gloves in her hands. Her hair was frosted white with time, and was cut short and stylish. She wore an old pair of blue jeans, but I could swear I saw a crease pressed into them. The last time I’d ironed my jeans was—now that I thought about it—never.

“What can I do for you ladies?” she asked in a rich and cultured voice.

“We’re here about crime,” I said. The woman looked perplexed until I added, “And how to stop it. Don’t you think neighbors should look out for each other in this uncertain day and age?”

The woman frowned. “I could hardly refute that.” She studied us both, and then added, “I haven’t seen you around this street before. Where exactly is it that you live?”

“We’ve both been in Timber Ridge all our lives,” Maddy said as she looked at the woman a little closer. “Why, you’re Mrs. Searing, aren’t you?”

She frowned, and then a smile blossomed on her face. “Made-line, is that you? You’ve changed so much I hardly recognized you. You’re all grown-up.”

Maddy moved closer, effectively shutting me out. “Except for your haircut, you haven’t changed at all.”

“You’re a liar, but I love you for it,” Mrs. Searing said cheerily. She pointed to me, and said, “This is your sister, Eleanor, isn’t it?”

“I am,” I admitted. How did Maddy know this woman, and I didn’t? My sister cleared up the mystery in a second. “Mrs. Searing taught fifth grade at the elementary school after you left for middle school.”

“I needed two more years in the district before I could retire,” she explained to me, “and I always wanted to teach at that grade-school level, so I transferred in. Before that, I was at Edgewood, teaching high-school senior English.”

“That must have been quite a transition for you,” I said.

“Not as much as you might think,” she replied. “Teaching is teaching, and children are children.”

I thought about adding,
And clouds are clouds, doorknobs are doorknobs, and parfaits are parfaits,
but I didn’t.

“We’re here about what happened to the man next door,” Maddy said, abandoning the Neighborhood Watch front I’d been prepared to utilize.

“It’s terrible,” Mrs. Searing said. “I must admit, I wasn’t all that fond of Wade, but to be bludgeoned to death must have been horrific. It happened at the local pizzeria, didn’t it?”

I nodded. “Mine, to be exact. I own A Slice of Delight.”

“Sorry, but I never learned to like pizza. I suppose that makes me un-American these days.”

“We have other things on the menu, too,” I said.

Maddy frowned at me. “Hey, Sis, take it easy. We’re not out drumming up business for the pizzeria,” she said to me, then turned to Mrs. Searing. “Do you have a moment? We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Certainly. I’m ready for a break, at any rate. I’ve been working in my greenhouse out back, and my stamina isn’t what it once was.”

“I doubt that,” Maddy said. “Are you still walking every day?”

“How sweet of you to remember,” Mrs. Searing said as she led us inside. The house was neat, clean, and clearly feminine. “Would either of you care for some coffee or perhaps some iced tea?”

“Tea would be great,” I said.

Maddy nodded her agreement, and soon enough we were sitting at the kitchen table like old friends, chatting away.

After taking a drink of herbal tea, Mrs. Searing asked, “Now, why are you two attempting to do the police’s business?”

She’d said it so sweetly, it took me a second to realize that there was a barb planted there.

“We hate to see an injustice done,” I said. “And if we don’t act, an innocent man might go to jail.”

Mrs. Searing seemed to ponder that for a few moments, then said, “You’ve certainly got my attention. Go on.”

“My deliveryman at the Slice is Wade’s brother, Greg. Scratch that, he’s more than that. Greg Hatcher is our friend, and we don’t want to see him suffer because of a short-sighted investigation.”

“I can respect that sentiment,” she said, then took another sip of tea. “What can I do, though?”

Maddy asked, “Did you ever see anything odd going on over at Wade’s place? Especially in the past few days?”

Mrs. Searing frowned slightly. “I’m not sure I should be telling tales out of school, as it were.”

“We’re not looking for idle gossip,” Maddy said, “though if you have any of that after we’re finished, I’d love to hear it.”

The older woman smiled at my sister, and I realized yet again how smooth Maddy was at getting people to root for her in whatever she did.

“I’m sure you would.” She took another sip, then said, “There was quite a fuss over there last night, I’m afraid.”

“We heard some of it,” I said.

“I don’t approve of yelling, not in my classroom, and certainly not in my neighborhood. The family on the other side of me loves to converse in loud shouting conversations all day long. I wonder at times if they’re all deaf, the way they shout at each other.”

“Back to Wade’s,” I said with a nudge.

“Yes, I often get off-track these days. Yesterday evening, there was shouting on that side of my house as well, but there weren’t any pleasantries being exchanged. Wade’s brother was there, but he left rather abruptly, with a young woman dogging his heels. She had the most unflattering things to say to Wade as she left, and she wasn’t afraid who heard her.”

“What did she look like?” I asked.

“Let’s see, she was tall and a little on the curvy side, with a shock of the most amazing red hair I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s Katy,” I said.

“She looked nothing like the next girl who came by and yelled at Wade. I must say, he had a rather hard night before he died, with two separate women cursing at him within ten minutes of each other.”

“Did you get a good look at the second girl?” Maddy asked.

“I wasn’t snooping, but my goodness, they were raising enough commotion to get everyone’s attention on the block. I’d never seen the first young lady until yesterday, but the second is a fixture over there. She has blond hair, though I’m certain it isn’t the shade she was born with.” It was all I could do not to look at Maddy, since she fit that description herself, but I let it slide.

“What else?”

“She was rather petite, and she looked delicate somehow, at least until she slapped him, and then opened her mouth. I’ve heard sailors use better language.” Sandi Meadows came by the pizzeria now and then, and though I’d never heard her curse, the rest of the description fit her to a tee.

“How many sailors do you know, Mrs. Searing?” Maddy asked with a grin.

“You’d be surprised,” she said smugly.

“Good for you.”

“If I may,” I interrupted, “did you happen to hear what they were yelling about?”